


Me, Myself, I, and...Them?

by minaviolet



Series: Incomplete Works [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Will likely never be completed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minaviolet/pseuds/minaviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been 73 years since the first Wizarding War against the Dark Lord Voldemort ended. It’s been 55 years since Voldemort was permanently ended by Harry Potter, the only person in known history to survive the Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse. And it’s been 22 years since the Statute of Secrecy was broken, the Muggle world plunged into World War II, and the Wizarding world locked in the deadliest war since the rise of Gellert Grindlewald.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I: The Potters

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts - underlined italics  
> Speech - quotation marks

_December 27, 2042: The Ministry_

Albus Severus Potter was not having a good day. It wasn’t enough that the Muggles had chosen today in particular to be particularly vicious in their attacks—oh, no, apparently the world decided to give him as much as it’d given his dad, Harry Potter.

Today also happened to be the 4th birthday of his youngest child and only daughter, Dorea Pandora Potter.

No, he had not been completely sane when he had decided to stick her with a name like that. But, to be fair, his wife, Alice Longbottom, had been the one who’d decided to give her a middle name like Pandora.

But, while his family was peacefully celebrating in their cottage beck in Godric’s Hollow, he was at the Ministry, dealing with the exceedingly exasperating Head of the Unspeakables.

“The Muggles are going crazy with all their guns and the like—we need to update our own weapons. Face it, Kettleby, wands are _not going to be enough in this war!_ It’s been going for _eleven years already!_ ”

“Potter, you aren’t the one that has to deal with the stagnant Ministry here! As much influence as your dad might have among the Aurors, Head Auror doesn’t cut it with this backwards Wizengamot!”

Even his dad had thought that they’d realize their pureblood ideals were useless after Voldemort. But apparently, if Grindlewald hadn’t been enough, then neither had been Voldemort.

Albus walked out of the Unspeakable Head Office, planning on seeing what Head Auror Harry Potter had to say about this—his dad still kicked ass, even at age 62—when, suddenly, one of the orbs hanging off the belt he always wore on his robes began flashing red.

With a growing sense of dread, he realized it was the orb that was charmed to signal if his family was in danger.

He ran to the nearest Apparition point in the building, and with loud crack, appeared in Godric’s Hollow. It was overrun with rifle-wielding Muggles, all of which noticed him instantly and turned their weapons on him.

Swearing, he rapidly Disillusioned himself, and ran to his cottage. His wife was fighting the Muggles, holding them back at wandpoint, but they had some sort of pseudo-magical protection on them—stolen, likely, from one of the raided cottages nearby.

He ran in the house through the back door, finding Dorea huddled quietly with Hector in the corner. He sighed with relief—the Muggles hadn’t yet noticed the other door, and it was now a moot entrance after the Notice-Me-Not charm placed on it—and whipped around when a loud explosion happened outside the house.

He noticed that the orb on his belt now not only glowed, but had a single crack running through it.

He drew his wand, and quickly pointed it at the door, which was busted down in the exact same moment. Positioning himself in front of his children, he began shooting off all the spells he could think of, some borderline-Dark Arts—he had been a Slytherin, and it was probably his wife’s Hufflepuff tendencies that’d brought about her—he wouldn’t think about that now, he couldn’t.

The Muggles kept coming though, and one of their bullets grazed his thigh.

 _Fuck._ He needed to be faster, he wouldn’t let them hurt his children—but he couldn’t, he’d never been physically apt, and the wound slowed his spell reaction, the next bullet to hit lodged itself in his ribs.

The last thing he saw was his son taking the exact same position he had in front of his daughter. He felt a vague sense of pride, coupled with fear, before he saw his wife, transparent, and then nothing.

Hector Potter was terrified. He did not want to die after only just entering his second year at Hogwarts. But he’d also just seen his dad die in front of him, and knew that, after the explosion, there was no way his mother could still be alive.

His sister shook behind him in fear. He knew he had to protect her. A _Protego_ was all could manage against the bullets, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as his dad’s, and neither was his spell repertoire.

It fell quickly, and he felt a burning pain in his shoulder. His vision went hazy, and he could hear his sister sobbing. She was begging him to be okay.

His last thoughts were, _I’m sorry, Dad._

Dorea Potter was only four, but she felt hopeless beyond her years as she heard her mother’s demise, then watched her father, and then her brother, shot to death in front of her.

The scary not-magic people hadn’t shot her yet, though. They’d seemed a bit hesitant after her brother had died. Finally, the leader stepped out.

“Don’t kill the girl. We can use her for study—find out what make these freaks tick.”

She didn’t know what that meant. She knew that it couldn’t possibly be anything good.

“Why? We killed the other kid.”

“This one’s younger, easier to research. That one had a wand, we didn’t have much of a choice.”

They took her, as she screamed and sobbed. Her feet were bound, alongside her hands, and her mouth taped shut.


	2. Chapter II: Freedom at a Price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alters' thoughts: underlined italics  
> Remus - green, Tom - red, Sirius - grey, Gellert - blue, Albus - purple, James - orange  
> Thoughts: apostrophe marks  
> Speech: quotation marks

_December 27, 2049: Headquarters of the Muggle War Research Institute_

Dorea Pandora Potter had decided, after a lot of pondering, on what her birthday present to herself should be. The people that poked and prodded at her, that tortured her and hit her and stuck her in a cage, certainly wouldn’t give her one, after all.

She’d been in this hellhole for seven years—which to some, might’ve been short, but to her, was more than half her life. She could barely remember her parents at this point, bar what her father’s back had looked like as he’d been shot. Her brother she remembered, but he was dead, so she tried to forget him.

She’d hoped, after her capture, that the wizards would find some way to help her. That’d they’d find her magically, and she’d be saved.

She’d soon learned that there were, of all the hypocritical things in existence, _magical wards_ protecting the Institute. Not to mention, she was fairly sure it was not in Britain, which made things all the more worse.

Damn the Muggleborns.

But she’d found a way to escape, and to stay escaped. And today, she’d get the best present she’d had in seven years— _freedom._

There had been a Muggle with a map of the Institute, she learned and she quietly listened to her torturers talk. They talked a lot, underestimating her—she kept it like that on purpose, it was far easier to get information that way.

She’d incapacitated him as soon as she’d exploded her cage, in a particularly taxing burst of magic against the wards on it. The map was a beautiful thing, although the air vents were quite nasty.

_What are you gonna do, now that you’ve escaped?_

_Too early for that, mutt, she’s still in the vents._

_There’s no need to be rude, Tom. But, Sirius, he’s right, we have to be careful about this._

Oh, yes, there was one thing she’d forgotten to mention. Her body had been tortured, and her magic tampered with, to the point where it’d split itself apart, and each part had gained its own personality. She figured it was something like the Disassociative Identity Disorder she’d heard the psychology specialists mention sometimes.

But apparently it was different for wizards. Not only did her other personalities—alters—take certain memories for her, they also took on the visages of people who according to her grandfather’s stories when she’d been a child, should be _dead._

They also happened to changed her hair and eye color when they took over her body.

There were twelve of them. Remus had appeared first, and took on all the pain she had to endure, making the Muggles somewhat disturbed whenever her reddish hair became sandy blond and her light olive eyes become amber-green when they hurt her.

Tom had come next. When she’d felt immense, painful, hatred towards the Muggles, he took it away from her, telling her it was bad for her, leaving her with a calm feeling. Her hair had darkened into pure black and her eyes had become blood red as he’d spat obscenities at the Muggles.

Sirius had come to balance Tom. He urged her to prank the Muggles each time one slighted her, and become chagrined at the fact that he had a girl’s body. He had black hair, same as Tom, but his eyes were a sharp grey.

Gellert had been something of a surprise—she knew one or two things about him, but not much, aside from the fact that his namesake was a Dark Lord. But, then again, so was Tom’s. He stored any useful information she gleaned from the Muggles, watching them with alert blue eyes, and taking on golden blond hair.

At this point, the Muggles had become used to her random changes in coloring—they figured it was a wizard thing, and the scientists had become even more eager to experiment on her, while the ones who kept her trapped had more incentive to hurt her.

Albus—he’d been a shock. She figured he’d come to keep calculating Tom and Gellert in check. He was her conscience, her humanity, easing her away from causing pain to others when other encouraged it. He was the one who showed her images of happier times, with her parents when she was at her lowest. He has the same auburn hair her father had had, coupled with blue eyes only a shade lighter than Gellert’s.

James had been the last to come. He helped her with her magic, alongside Albus and Tom, though moreso than them, he tried to teach her how to fly. She had memories of her cousins flying loop-de-loops and Wronski Feints on their _Lightningbolt 2020s_ , and watched them in awe as a child. James always grumbled about the lack of brooms to fly with, but attempted to teach her wandless flight magic instead.

He had the same chocolate brown hair her uncle James had coveted, though she knew they both got it from her great-grandfather James Potter. He also had the same brown eyes her great-grandfather had been said to have.

It was Sirius now that goaded her on, though Remus calmed his enthusiasm, and Tom sneered at him for it. She let him take over, and he nimbly used the map to guide them through the vents to one of the few entrances that was outside.

_I hope nobody has noticed our disappearance yet._

_Do you not trust my illusory charms? I’m insulted._

_It isn’t that. You know that with our core level, any nearby wizard who noticed them could easily disspell them._

_With any luck, we’ll be so fast that we’ll be gone before we’re noticed._

_I hope so._

_Hey, Rea, what do you think we should do after we get out of here?_

‘I don’t really know. We’ve been in there for so long…’

_Why don’t we go to Britain, first? I think teleporting there—_

_Apparating._

_Yeah, Apparating there is a good idea._

_Wish we could fly there._

_We’ll try to find a way to a broom when we find an entrance into the Wizarding world._

_After this, I won’t have to get electrocuted for the rest of our damn lives._

_And I won’t have to think about those Muggles ever again. Shudder. Horrid things, they are._

_Calm, Tom. Oh, that sort of rhymed._

_It’s things like that that make people think you’re crazy, Albus._

Had she ever mentioned how it fun was to have voices in her head?

_We’re out! WE’RE FREE!!!_

She felt herself filled with an indescribable glee as her alters cheered with joy. She was free. She was finally free. She felt the urge to scream, but Tom stopped her, saying that could wait. Albus reminded her that they needed to leave the vicinity of the Institute. James took over, saying he’d rather not have her splinch their body on their first go at long-distance Apparition.

Albus gave her one of the long-ago memories she held of Diagon Alley. S focused on the memory, remembering Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, and disappeared with a loud crack.

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that will likely forever stay incomplete.


End file.
